


Into The Grove

by AceLucky



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Godswood, Hugs, Kissing, Love Confessions, Romance, Snow, Tenderness, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceLucky/pseuds/AceLucky
Summary: Sandor had expected many things when he walked into the Godswood, he had expected to feel unwelcome and like a trespasser, he had not expected to feel at home.





	Into The Grove

**Author's Note:**

> After the end of Game of Thrones and feeling thoroughly heartbroken and lost (it being the end of an era and all - along with some of what happened!) I wanted to write something soft and heartwarming where two of my favourites get a happy ending together, this was the result.

“You’d think fighting in wars you’d get used to all the noise and people.” He didn’t look up from his food as he spoke and when he did look up, a piece of chicken hung from between his lips momentarily before he used his finger to poke it into his mouth. 

Sansa, who had been waiting years to speak to Sandor alone again, did not respond. She sensed in his voice there was more to come, not of course until he’d had another drink and maybe another. Drink flowed freely in the halls of Winterfell, just as it always had. 

So they sat surrounded by all the chaos and noise that was nothing in comparison to the chaos of war and yet Sandor had never felt this uncomfortable. When in a battle he knew he belonged there, knew he had a purpose, worth, he became a part of something bigger. But now faced with Sansa in private conversation he felt vulnerable and unsure of his next move. 

Sansa drank her red wine slowly, it was no longer the sweet wine she had loved in her early days in King’s Landing. The wine she enjoyed now was richer, dry, full-bodied, she fancied that her transition in taste had mirrored her own transition as a person from girl to woman. 

But to talk of what she wanted to with so much distraction, it didn’t feel right. 

“You’ve never been to the Godswood have you?” She asked suddenly. 

Even as the words spilt from her lips she knew the answer, no, Sandor had never set foot in the Godswood.

As a young man Sandor had often wondered what it would be like to be given some land, to marry a pretty lady and have children. But the mirror, the mirror had been his greatest foe, even greater than that of his brother. The mirror and his reflection served of a reminder not only of the past but of the memories he’d never have and a future he couldn’t hold, no matter how he might try to grab at it. 

He swallowed hard and shook his head, “No lass I’ve not.” 

A woman now, Sansa was not afraid of her affections. She knew what she wanted. Every time Joffrey or Ramsay, every time someone had touched her when she had desired nothing less. So to comfort herself she would allow her mind to think on Winterfell and freedom and of another man.

And as Sansa walked in front of him, her long furs swaying behind her in time with her hair he wondered again for the first time in years what that would have been like, to have a wife, a family. To have lived a life more ordinary. 

The snow came down lightly now, but the flakes were thick and bright as daylight. They rested, nested and melted into Sansa’s red hair and he found himself unable to look away from her. The need to reach out and stroke her hair, feel the ice melt underneath his fingertips. 

Sandor had expected many things when he walked into the Godswood, he had expected to feel unwelcome and like a trespasser, he had not expected to feel at home.

He looked up at the great Weirwood tree and the crying blood red sap. The leaves such a stark contrast to the cold world around them, proving there was still life in places others thought it to be dead. His hand without realising it had clutched to his chest, perhaps the heart that beat inside wasn’t as dead as he liked to pretend. 

Sansa stopped and turned to face him, the two were stood as close as they were the night of Blackwater.

“You’re not so frightening after all,” she observed. 

They stood in the sanctuary of the Grove in silence, the only sound was that of the crows and of snow softly landing on the ground. 

“Alright girl what did you bring me here for?” Despite his words, his tone was far softer than he’d have liked it to be, but by the time he realised this it was too late, he had spoken. He had shown her a part of himself that he didn’t want her to know existed. 

Sansa seemed taller now as she studied him carefully, the smile he had given her in the hall had been the warmest she had known for some time. 

“It’s beautiful, is it not?” She asked, taking a step backwards, her hands held neatly in front of her. 

Sandor looked around for a moment, he couldn’t deny her, “Yes girl, it is.”

“You can call me by my name you know.”

Sandor sighed, “Sansa I don’t know why the fuck you’ve brought me out here.”

She gave a small laugh, but it wasn’t born of childish naivety, rather amusement at the situation and pride in the belief she had in herself.

“Alright, what’s so funny?” He asked without a trace of annoyance or anger.

Sansa took a step forwards so that she was stood face to face with the man who once saved her life. Looking up at him there was a certain handsomeness which she hadn’t seen before. So many nights she had spent in King’s Landing dreaming of the Knight who had saved her from Joffrey’s wrath. Dreaming of the Knight who had promised to take her away from all the madness and pain. 

She reached up and cupped his face, the pads of her fingers on her left hand gently traced the scars. He flinched but only for a moment, then the fear subsided, quicker than ever before.

“I need no man to rule Winterfell by my side,” Sansa begun, “But, I should be glad for the company.”

Sandor didn’t know how to respond, he opened his mouth but nothing but stutters and air came out.

Sansa went up on her tiptoes and pulled Sandor closer to her, her lips brushing against his, testing the waters. 

Sandor didn’t react at first, still trying to work out whether this was a joke. What on earth did she see in him. 

When he didn’t kiss her back, she pulled away, her hands still gently cupping the side of his face, searching his eyes for the warmth she knew existed. It was there alright, his brown eyes seemed soft, face in a slight contorted smile of confusion and bliss all at once.

Sandor closed his eyes and let out a sigh, “Sansa, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

She took a step closer so they were touching, her thumb brushing his lip, “No. You’re wrong, I’ve had so much time to think, to grow… no one protected me like you, I thought of no one else.”

She went to kiss him again, though his eyes were still closed she needed to taste more of him, to be one with him and set her world on fire. Too long had she been cold and her skin made of steel.

Though he didn’t respond at first, when Sansa continued to softly kiss his lips he found himself unable to reject her, completely under a spell his own hands wrapped round her and held her close. His lips barely moved against hers, but it was enough for her to know the difference and enough for her to continue. 

Sandor thoroughly expecting this all to be in jest and so unaccustomed to such kindness or tenderness was unsure how to respond, so kissing gently, slowly seemed like the only reasonable way to react. 

And in those few precious moments when they first kissed, the world seemed anew to Sandor. As her hands locked behind his back, clutching him and pushing him closer to her. As her tongue slid between his lips so certain of herself was she in that moment, oh he knew this could be no trick. 

So Sandor did something he would never have allowed The Hound to do, he enjoyed it, let himself have a small piece of happiness he was sure was reserved for everyone in the world except for him. The snow around them continued to fall, heavy in it’s throes so that soon their footprints were covered and they were lost in the comfort of the Godswood. 

Several crows and ravens sat tall in the near bare branches of the Weirwood trees, they watched this strange union from afar. Wise eyes approving. Sap bore ceaselessly from the eyes of the old god’s, tears of rejoice the ravens felt. A twisted smile they were perhaps, tricksters in many ways, but protectors foremost.

When Sandor kissed Sansa back he tried not to be too rough with her, though his hands within moments had found themselves nestled into her red locks of hair and entwined, holding her passionately. His kisses were coarse due to his beard, but she moaned into them all the same. And when he sucked her lower lip ever so slightly, the hands that were round his back went slack, her shoulders dropped and finally she relaxed into the kiss.

Sansa was the one to break the kiss, it was the kind of gentle break that made heart’s melt. The kind of break that told the other person ‘I love you’ but with no words. It slowed until their lips had nearly stopped moving and then she pulled away, only to press her lips against his again in a succession of small kisses before pressing her nose against his.  
She stepped back, her cheeks blooming as bright as the leaves behind them, her eyes cast down at the snow, closed for a moment. 

Sandor stood up straight and watched her curiously, as her eyes opened and she looked up at him he saw he had never seen anyone quite so beautiful. The top of her hair was covered in glistening snowflakes, crowning her like she deserved. Her eyelashes too were coated, for a moment she appeared to him like an Ice Queen. His heart stopped though knowing the warmth now of her lips. 

“It’s not so strange I suppose.” He said as he awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other and ruffled his hair.

She wore a curious smile now, almost a smirk, “What isn’t?”

“A wolf and an old dog ending up together.”

She smiled, “No, I suppose not.” 

“For you truly are a wolf now little bird.” 

“I’m not a little bird anymore.”

Sandor’s world had been so small, it had consisted of fighting, of hatred and a need for revenge.

It was his turn now to show her comfort, he cupped her cheek, she tilted her head so that she was closer to him, her eyes for a second closing. A momentary glimpse of bliss and a more fulfilling life for both of them.

“No, you’re not, you broke from that cage long ago and now the world is so large there is much for you to see.”

Sansa’s wry smile signalled to Sandor that the two of them would be just fine.

From the edge of the wood Tyrion spied on the two old friends, though at first this revelation had shocked him, the more he watched the more it made sense. Yes, he was required now in King’s Landing with Podrick, Brienne and Bronn. Jon and Arya were bound for new adventures, and who better to stay by Sansa’s side?

For Sansa much like her mother was a woman to whom family meant everything, she couldn’t hold on to the family she had much longer. Finally it was time for the pack to split up, but she could create a pack of her own. A pack that would carry on the stories of her family and ensure in doing so that they lived on. She would be a lone wolf no more, with Sandor by her side.


End file.
